


always stuck and running from

by petroltogo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avengers In Lockdown, BAMF JARVIS, COVID-19, Everyone Is A Dysfunctional Human Being, Everyone Totally Believes The "Accidental" Part... Not, Gen, Is There Any Other JARVIS Though?, Lots Of Complicated Emotions Regarding The Whole COVID-19 Situation, No Beta Consider Yourself Warned, Swearing, The It's Okay Not To Be Okay Fic That Contains Way More Violence Against Dishware Than You'd Expect, Tony Accidentally Builds Doomsday Machines, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, casual talk about murder, lockdown - Freeform, team as a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/pseuds/petroltogo
Summary: “Have you ever tried to stab a fuckingvirus?”In which superheroes are supposed to lead by example, the entire earthly Avengers' team is on lockdown, sticking a group of trained killers into the same building for extended periods of time is a terrible idea for everyone involved and, inevitably, someonesnaps.[Clint would like the record to reflect that said someone is Tony.]
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 272
Collections: Avengers as Family





	always stuck and running from

The team eats breakfast together at 8.30am. Used to be, Bucky would already be out of the Tower by that time, but considering “out” isn’t an option during a local lockdwon — especially not when you’re supposed to _lead by example_ , when you’re superhero, rolemodel and influencer all in one — they’ve all adjusted their schedules. A lot.

“You okay, Bucky?” Steve asks halfway through his third omelette. 

[Clint used to suck at cooking, now he could have his own food blog if he had the drive to stick with it. Bucky stops that thought right there because as delicious as Clint’s breakfast is, thinking about it makes him want to break something.]

“Fine.”

Bucky doesn’t know where the concern stems from, but damn if it doesn’t raise his hackles quick as a fucking HYDRA emblem. He’s not in the mood to placate Steve today, to smile and pretend he’s not running out of new things to try now that he’s _got the time_.

“You sure?” Steve asks hesitantly, like he knows just how close to snapping Bucky is. 

What’s even worse is that, should he give in and snarl out insults the way he wants to, Steve would make That Face, like Bucky’s shitty mood is his own personal failure and responsibility. Just the thought sets Bucky’s teeth on edge.

[Bucky’s had to endure fifteen interviews on _How To Keep Yourself Occupied At Home_ and _How Your Idols Survive The Lockdown_ and similar shit just in the last month, and if he ever has to say the phrase _A problem is just a misunderstood opportunity_ again, he’s going to break someone’s face. Slowly. With purpose.]

“Yes, I’m fucking _sure_ , now can we _please_ move on?” Bucky forces out from behind gritted teeth.

Clint casually inches away from him. Guy has some of the best self-preservation instincts on this team, not that you’d believe it when you’re stuck with him on observation at 3.40am and he’s gulping down a magical coffee mix that may or may not corrode metal like it’s water.

“Bucky...” Steve thankfully doesn’t continue. But he’s giving Bucky the soulful, you-can-trust-me-with-anything look and that’s almost worse.

_CRASH_

The sound of a cup shattering has the entire team of zero-chill, high-strung predators that call themselves a superhero team whirl around with various weapons in hand. [And where the hell has Natasha hidden a knife of that size?]

Only to stare in incomprehension at the broken remains of Tony’s fifth-favorite coffee cup. Half-full coffee cup, if the mess dripping down the wall is anything to go by.

That second part causes Bucky’s brain to crash and reboot. Because Tony Stark may break a lot of things, but certainly not his half-full coffee cup. On purpose.

That’s—

That’s—

Slowly, Bucky turns to look at the team genius who’s staring at the mess with a completely blank expression that wouldn’t be out of place on the Asset himself.

“Tony?” Steve asks, a bit like he’s afraid there’s gonna be a complete meltdown coming, screaming and tears and everything — Steve really, really sucks at dealing with crying people, it has to be said — and a bit like he expects their fellow Avenger to reveal that he’s been replaced by a shape-shifting alien any second now.

It’s not an unreasonable suspicion, considering Tony just threw half his morning dose of caffeine against a damn wall.

“This is bullshit,” Tony says after a long moment of oppressive silence. He sounds like he’s having a personal revelation.

If it’s supposed to be an explanation, Bucky isn’t following.

Tony still hasn’t glanced away from the broken cup, but he’s frowning now. “This is bullshit and I hate it and I hate all of you.”

“Wow,” Clint deadpans, “tell us how you really feel.”

At that, Tony’s head snaps out and Bucky doesn’t get how he hasn’t seen this until now, how he’s missed this because they’ve been living together 24/7 for weeks and there’s no way there haven’t been any signs because this. This isn’t Tony about to have a mental breakdown, this is Tony _pissed as fuck_.

“ _I hate everything about this_!” Tony snarls out with an aggressiveness Bucky has never before associated with the hyperactive mechanical genius. “I hate being stuck in this Tower thinking I should be glad about the room I have and how priviledged I am to have an entire floor to myself and that it’s probably the most high-tech prison on the entire planet because I still can’t go outside. I hate being stuck with all of you and waiting for Nat to snap and kill us in our sleep because someone used up her conditioner and I’m so damn sick of writing employee newsletters that don’t make everyone feel like crap and don’t give anyone the impression that the world is so damn fucked when it really is and I don’t have the fucking means to fix it because I can talk about the importance of social distancing and masks and self-quarantining all day, but I can’t force people to put them on and stick to those rules and put other people’s safety and lives about their own damn comfort for however long it goddamn takes and if I have to smile for another photoshoot or have to tell people on national TV one more time that we just need to buckle down for a few weeks and then it’s all gonna be fine when it’s not even clear yet how that ‘fine’ will look like and if a vaccine is possible or would even help longterm while half the country’s leaders flail about and do absolutely nothing but make it worse, I’m gonna bring this whole tower and everyone in it down myself!”

How Tony manages to say all that without running out of breath will forever remain a mystery. Nor has he run out of rage during his rant, judging by that pinched look around his eyes.

CRASH

And that would be Tony’s plate, helpfully confirming Bucky’s observation.

“Tony, stop!”

“Nope, sorry, Cap, but I’m tired of playing this pretend game. I didn’t build this tower to lock myself inside and I didn’t invite you guys here so I could keep up the press routine all day long!” And with those words, Tony grabs Steve’s coffee and smashes it as well.

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending this doesn’t suck and I’m tired of this toxic positivity bullshit!” Tony fixates Steve with a glare he usually reserves for Hammer at his most incompetent. “This sucks. Being stuck in quarantine sucks. I _know_ we’ll make it through this, but if a global pandemic isn’t the time to freak the fuck out I don’t know when is. And I’m gonna throw dishes at the wall until I _stop_ feeling like a doomsday machine will solve all my problems and my skin stops crawling at the thought of spending another second in this room. Then I’m gonna cry and eat ice cream straight out of the box until JARVIS doesn’t have to remind me every step of the way not to turn my solar panels into a super soldier death gun and _then_ we can have our weepy, emotional talk. Got it?”

“Super soldier death gun?” Steve asks somewhat weakly.

Which, say what you want about the guy, but he sure has his priorities straight. Bucky approves.

“Total accident,” Tony waves him off like that’s the type of thing people just build _accidentally_. “I love you guys, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I hate you and you make me want to kill you. We’re just not meant to be stuck in such close proximity for long periods of time. Oh, _don’t_ give me that look, Nat.” He scoffs. “Like you haven’t been stalking all of us like we’re your newest target. Besides I would have to reprogram JARVIS’ morality protocols to get away with that kind of weapon manufacturing.”

“For the record, Sir, you are my morality protocol,” JARVIS chimes in, voice that special brand of dry humor he has perfected.

...and if that isn’t the scariest thing Bucky’s ever heard the AI say, he doesn’t know what is.

“If you think flattery is gonna stop me from destroying these dishes you are very wrong, J, but I’m proud for your very skilled manipulation attempt.” 

With a twisted smile, Tony smashes another plate. It might have contained Clint’s breakfast, not that the poor guy’s protesting. Bucky can empathise. They live in a tower controlled by JARVIS after all, even though they all like to pretend they don't know what that means.

When Tony turns around and holds out a cup to Bucky, he actually flinches. That Tony doesn’t immediately backpadle because he thinks he’s making Bucky uncomfortable or some such rot is a clear indication to how far gone he is.

“Try it,” he demands.

“Tony—” Steve tries to interrupt. Tries being the key word because Tony is having none of it.

“Shut it, Cap. You can’t always smile at the wreakage and pretend it’s all fixable. Sometimes you need to smash something before you can start the clean-up process,” Tony says in the background, but Bucky isn’t really listening.

He stares at the cup in his hand for a very long moment. Thinks about all the times he’s wanted to shout at Steve in the past week and held himself back because it wasn’t really Steve he was angry with. Neither is he angry at this cup, but he won’t feel as bad breaking it as he would [eventually] feel about breaking Steve’s face. Or releasing toxic gas in Clint’s airvent. Or dropkicking Natasha through a window from the 40th floor up.

...Tony is probably right. None of them are safe to be around for extended periods of time.

Smashing the cup feels more satisfying than Bucky thought it would. Smashing the cup while screaming bloody murder is even better. A plate and then another crash even louder. Then Bucky ducks reflexively, watches a glass of orange juice sail over his head that didn’t come from Tony. In fact, well.

_Good for you, Stevie_.

Bucky... kind of loses it after that.

He’s not sure at which point they move from smashing the dishware to destroying the entire room, but everyone — safe for Bruce — joins in at some point. He knows that because JARVIS — and Clint — record the entire thing.

By the time they’re done the entire floor is demolished, there’s blood streaking down Bucky’s temple, Steve’s shirt is shredded and Natasha has a twisted ankle that no one remembers how it came about. Bucky is exhausted and he just knows Steve will guilt them all into cleaning the horrific mess up themselves in a few moments, but for the first time in weeks Bucky feels like he can _breathe_.

Bruce is fixing up Nat’s ankle and Clint and Tony have at some point delved into a the floor is lava pillow fight combination and Steve’s smiling a weird smile that reeks of too much violence to be PR-approved and. It’s not good, exactly, because Bucky is pretty sure he has some eggs in his hair and glass shards in his left foot, but they’ll manage.

They’ll get through the inevitalbe breakdown and the crying and the endless frustration and the lockdown and they’ll make do. _They’ll be alright_.

[His skin still feels two sizes too small all the time and Tony mutters about doomsday machines more often than is probably wise and Natasha’s gait still hasn’t lost its predatory stalking and Clint still destroys more controllers than he ever used to do and Steve still creepily stalks that weird guy he’s been going on runs with before this entire mess started online, but that’s just the way things are right now.

And maybe Tony says “I hate this,” and “All of this sucks,” more often than Steve would like because Steve is the type who doesn’t like to focus on what he can’t change. But Bucky doesn’t mind. He gets it.

Sometimes you have to let it out instead of bottling it all up, the darkness, the frustration and the pain, and maybe his therapist would tell him _that’s okay, that’s healthy_ , if he could bring himself to talk about these things properly.

Maybe one day he will.]

“It’s okay not to be okay right now,” Bucky tells his Instagram followers the next day and maybe none of them will ever know how much he _means_ that, how much none of them are okay at all, but maybe saying it is a good first step.

* * *

_Bonus:_

Natasha carefully tests the stability of her right ankle and nods her thanks at Bruce. Surveys the chaos around her. Decides that cleaning up can wait for another hour or two, it’s not like they won’t have the time.

“Get Bruce’s last batch of cookies,” she tells Clint quietly.

The likeable moron gasps scandalously. “B-But Bruce’s cookies are for worst mission aftermaths _only_!” he protests half-heartedly, already stepping around the broken couch table towards the kitchen.

Natasha narrows her eyes.

“What did I tell you in Naples?”

“’Every mission where you don’t get to stab the offending party is a bad mission’?” Clint asks hesitantly.

“Have you ever tried to stab a fucking _virus_?”

“...I’m not sure our emergency stock is large enough to get us through this.”

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr, then realized it got way too long and decided to put it on here as well. Because as it turns out I have a lot of feelings about this entire situation and not all of them good. That's not to say I don't appreciate the positive content I see from a lot of different sources - I totally do. It pushes me, improves my mood and motivates me. But sometimes it also frustrates me because I don't always want to be told to make the best of things. I want to be angry, afraid, frustrated and that's exactly the mindset that resulted in this fic.
> 
> I didn't write this to pull anyone down into despair, I wrote it because it helped me come to terms with the fact that this is how I feel right now and even though I'm not happy and optimistic 24/7, that's not the end of the world. So if you feel that way sometimes, this is your reminder that your emotions, positive AND negative, are valid and you can and should feel free to express them. Not the way the team does it in this fic though, please don't demolish your home. Not unless you're an enhanced super soldier, trained killer or Tony, no exceptions!
> 
> And before these notes get way too long again, I just hope you're all doing okay in this difficult situation and if you occasionally want to scream-and-or-sob into your pillow, do it. You have every right to.


End file.
